An hour earlier...
The Glover fleet slowly arrived at the ford on the Trident.
Galon's expression was grave. Before the ship had even settled against the shore, he leaped onto the sands of the Ruby Ford.
Long before the vessels reached land, he had already noticed the devastation that covered the shoreline.
As the fleet docked in orderly succession, he carefully examined the surroundings.
The longer he looked, the worse his mood became.
'So many people... At least several thousand troops passed through here.'
'Did something happen to Robb?'
A deep frown settled across his face as the sense of impending disaster reached its peak.
His officers, including Sparta, quickly gathered around him.
"Ron."
"Take a few scouts and investigate the Inn at the Crossroads. Be careful."
Suppressing his unease, Galon gave the order.
Ron, seasoned by countless campaigns, immediately understood his meaning. He nodded and personally departed with several scouts.
After watching Ron leave, Galon turned to the others.
"Remain on alert."
Then he looked toward Ser Tarly Rogers. "Ser Tarly, tie the ships securely. Leave the supplies aboard for now."
The sturdy knight in his thirties nodded.
After giving instructions to his men, he turned back with concern.
"Lord Glover... has something happened to King Stark?"
"Has the Lannister army attacked?"
Galon answered quietly,
"I fear the same."
"Ser Tarly, I have one request."
Meeting the knight's puzzled gaze, he continued, "If battle breaks out, I need you and your men to obey my commands without hesitation."
As captain of House Tully's guard, Ser Tarly agreed without the slightest pause.
"Before we left Riverrun, Lord Brynden instructed me that everything on the march was to follow your orders."
"If we fight today, my three hundred men are yours to command."
Galon nodded in appreciation.
Just as he was about to speak again, Ron unexpectedly returned.
He hurried over and reported in a low voice.
"My lord.
Everyone at the Inn at the Crossroads has been slaughtered... The innkeeper's body was hanging from the front gate.
The place is deserted. There are numerous fire pits nearby.
Judging from the scene, whoever camped here left less than four hours ago."
Galon's heart sank.
Sparta and Ser Tarly both stiffened.
"Four hours..."
"That means they're not far ahead of us."
Looking down at the countless footprints covering the Ruby Ford, Galon traced their direction.
They all pointed toward the crossing camp.
His expression changed instantly.
'This is bad. Robb is in danger.'
He immediately issued his orders.
"Everyone assemble!"
Within minutes, more than twelve hundred men—including Ser Tarly's Tully soldiers—had formed up.
"Ser Tarly. Leave a handful of men behind to guard the ships."
"Everyone else follows me. We march for the crossing camp immediately."
"Prepare for battle."
Without another word, Galon led the army along the enemy's trail.
They marched at full speed for an hour.
By the time the sounds of battle reached them, the northern alliance was already beginning to collapse.
Since the Lannister forces were fully occupied fighting the northern army, none noticed the threat approaching from behind.
Galon raised his bronze spyglass and surveyed the battlefield.
His expression darkened after only a glance.
'Damn it.'
'Who's commanding this army? They're throwing lives away!'
'Where's Robb?'
Still unaware that Robb had already fallen, Galon was both shocked and furious.
The countless banners told him everything.
Nearly the entire strength of the North was fighting here.
If this continued, the North's military power would be destroyed in a single battle.
For the man who intended to lead the North, such an outcome was utterly unacceptable.
'No.'
'I won't let the North's army die here.'
Adjusting the spyglass, he quickly spotted Kevan Lannister directing the battle from the rear.
The golden lion banner immediately caught his eye.
At once, a plan formed.
'I'll have to gamble.'
Lowering the spyglass, he turned toward his soldiers. His voice was low, yet every word carried clearly.
"Men."
"You've all seen it."
"The Lannisters are attacking our king and Lord Tully. As bannermen of the North, I will never stand by and watch."
He paused.
His voice gradually rose.
"You have followed me through countless victories. Today, we claim even greater glory."
"Do not fear. Do not hesitate."
"Charge with me."
"So long as our banner still flies... So long as we can still raise our weapons..."
"We advance. We never retreat. We fight until death."
"Remember this! There is no enemy before us who cannot be defeated!"
The moment his words ended, the entire army's spirit transformed.
Even Ser Tarly and the newly joined Tully soldiers found themselves gripping their weapons tightly.
Galon drew his greatsword and pointed toward the battlefield.
"For the North!"
"For House Glover!"
"Charge!"
Without hesitation, he rushed straight toward Kevan's position.
More than a thousand soldiers thundered after him.
The earth trembled.
Like a mountain collapsing into the sea, the Glover army struck with overwhelming momentum.
They became the sharpest Valyrian steel blade imaginable, driving directly into the exposed rear of the Lannister formation.
Just as the northern alliance teetered on the edge of destruction...
Galon Glover stepped onto the battlefield once again.
As the charging force rapidly closed the distance, Kevan—still celebrating what seemed certain victory—finally noticed the movement behind him.
He spun around.
His pupils contracted sharply.
'That's...Glover?!'
'How did they get behind us?'
Realizing the newcomers were charging directly toward him, Kevan instinctively wanted to recall his troops.
But the Brave Companions were already pressing the attack.
The Westerlands cavalry were busy pursuing fleeing enemies.
If he ordered a general withdrawal now, the entire battle line would unravel, giving the northern army an opportunity to recover.
After a brief moment of thought, he made what he believed was the safer choice.
'They don't have many men.'
'If my center can hold them for just a little while... The main battlefield will already be decided.'
'Then the army can simply turn around.'
'No matter how many heads Glover has, he'll still die.'
His eyes flashed with determination.
He immediately organized his remaining two thousand Lannister soldiers to intercept the attack.
But events moved too quickly.
Galon's men were already upon them.
With a single swing of his greatsword, Galon cut down a Lannister auxiliary guarding the rear.
"For the North!"
"For Riverrun!"
"Capture Kevan Lannister alive!"
The Glover soldiers, thoroughly familiar with their lord's style, echoed his battle cry as one.
Their thunderous voices overwhelmed even the clash of the main battlefield.
"Reinforcements!"
"It's Glover!"
"Glover's reinforcements are here!"
"And Riverrun's!"
Someone among the collapsing northern ranks shouted first.
"Hold!"
"Our reinforcements have arrived!"
"Hold the line!"
Rickard Karstark immediately rallied the remnants of his cavalry into a counterattack.
The Mormonts of Bear Island.
The Lockes.
The men of Hornwood.
Galon's staunchest allies all found new strength and charged once more.
The Tallharts and the Sevens joined forces with the Umbers at the front, fighting desperately.
Inspired by the North's renewed courage, even the quarrelsome riverlords could only unite in the face of death.
For a time, the front line stabilized.
The battle returned to a brutal stalemate.
Meanwhile, Galon ignored the ordinary Lannister soldiers before him. His eyes never left Kevan Lannister.
"Charge!"
Clad in Valyrian scale armor, Galon became the spearhead of the assault.
Protected by the armor's incredible resilience, he resembled a god of war.
No man could stop him.
Weapons struck harmlessly against his scales.
His answering blows severed heads with terrifying efficiency.
On his left, Sparta led the towering Skagosi warriors.
Their war hammers and axes crushed every ordinary Lannister soldier who opposed them.
The enemy ranks crumbled before their assault.
On his right, Ron led Glover's elite guard.
Their disciplined formation harvested enemy lives with ruthless precision.
Behind them, Ser Tarly directed the remaining Tully soldiers, finishing off the wounded and securing their advance.
Driven forward by Galon's leadership, the Glover army fought with unstoppable momentum.
The Lannister soldiers fell back again and again.
With every step, Galon drew closer to Kevan.
"Faster! Don't stop!"
"Capture Kevan Lannister!"
From beginning to end, Kevan had been his only objective.
Blood covered Galon's face.
Yet his eyes never wavered from the white horse beneath the golden lion banner.
Capture the king.
Break the army.
'Only by taking Kevan can I turn this battle around.'
'I have to win. There is no other choice.'
Power surged through every muscle in his body.
Like a rhino in human form, Galon crashed into the tightly defended Lannister center.
His greatsword harvested lives relentlessly as he drove straight toward the command standard of the Westerlands.
The enormous golden lion banner.
Kevan's expression changed completely.
Watching Galon carve his way forward through countless soldiers, he muttered in disbelief,
'How can such a warrior exist?'
'No...'
Panic overtook him as Galon closed from fifty paces...
To twenty...
"Fall back!"
"Quickly! Protect me!"
Fear finally gripped Kevan Lannister. The crimson banner bearing the silver fist was almost upon him.
"Send for the Brave Companions! And Amory!"
"Bring them back! Stop him!"
But it was already too late. The battle had consumed everyone.
The Brave Companions.
The Westerlands spearmen.
The cavalry.
All were locked in desperate fighting against the revitalized northern army. None could disengage quickly enough.
Surrounded only by his bodyguards, Kevan could do nothing but watch the black-armored god of slaughter approach.
Twenty paces.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Five.
When the blood-soaked Galon finally reached him, only twenty-odd men remained alive behind the Glover lord.
Looking at Kevan from only a few steps away, Galon smiled.
It was the smile of a predator.
"Lord Kevan. I've long heard of your reputation."
"Surrender peacefully. I guarantee your safety."
Kevan's heart trembled. Yet he answered with a cold laugh. "A Lannister always pays his debts."
"Lord Glover... If you lay down your sword, I can guarantee your house's safety as well."
Galon slowly shook his head. "It seems I'll have to take you first."
"Charge!"
His eyes flashed.
He burst forward once more.
Like a blood-drenched god of war, his greatsword swept through the bodyguards, severing the weapon arms of the foremost defenders.
Panting heavily, Sparta still led five or six Skagosi warriors, holding back attacks from the flanks.
Galon crashed into Kevan's personal guard.
His greatsword came down.
Bang!
An overwhelming force surged through Kevan's arms. His sword flew from his grasp.
He stumbled backward uncontrollably.
Panic seized him.
He desperately reached out, trying to steady himself. But before he could recover, Galon's greatsword swung again.
Instead of cutting...
It struck with the flat of the blade.
Crash!
The blow smashed into Kevan's helmet.
Without even a chance to struggle, Kevan collapsed unconscious.
"Kevan Lannister is dead!"
Galon spared him only a brief glance. Whether Kevan truly lived or died no longer mattered.
With a mighty roar, he swung again.
The great golden lion banner of House Lannister was cut in half and crashed to the earth.
The Glover soldiers erupted with renewed fury.
"Kevan Lannister is dead!"
"Kevan Lannister is dead!"
The Lannister soldiers instinctively turned toward their standard.
What they saw shattered them.
The golden lion had fallen like a dead bird.
"No..."
"Lord Kevan..."
"Impossible..."
That sight became the final blow to the morale of the Westerlands army.
They turned and fled without a second thought, abandoning comrades still fighting on the front lines.
"We've won!"
"Glover killed the Lannister commander!"
"Counterattack!"
News of Kevan's apparent death spread across the battlefield like wildfire.
The northern alliance, moments from collapse, suddenly fought with reckless courage, pinning down the remaining Lannister forces and the Brave Companions.
The Lannisters, meanwhile, began to break.
Vargo was the first to recognize disaster.
After barely repelling another attack, he looked behind him. His heart nearly stopped.
'Damn it... Glover really killed Kevan.'
'My gold...'
After one mournful thought for his lost fortune, he found a gap in the northern lines.
"Run!"
"The Lannisters are finished!"
The moment their commander fled, the Brave Companions—never more than a loose band of sellswords—lost all desire to fight.
They scattered in every direction.
"For the North!"
Led by Greatjon and Lady Mormont, the northern lords became a pack of enraged wolves, tearing into the fleeing mercenaries.
In less than a minute...
The battle had been completely reversed.
Recognizing defeat, the Westerlands cavalry disengaged from the fighting.
After a brief hesitation, they fled toward Saltpans, pursued by Karstark horsemen.
The remaining Westerlands infantry and spearmen were far less fortunate.
Caught between Galon's assault and the northern counterattack, they either died where they stood or threw themselves into the swift waters of the Green Fork, their fate unknown.
At last, seeing all hope lost, Ser Amory laid down his sword and surrendered his remaining men to Galon.
The battle was over.
For now.
Galon stood amid a battlefield carpeted with the dead.
His towering figure resembled a solitary sentinel tree rising above a sea of corpses.
His gaze swept across the northern lords who had gathered once more beneath the crimson banner bearing the silver fist.
In their eyes he saw awe.
Gratitude.
And fervent admiration.
He knew... From this day forward, this army would never forget one name.
Galon Glover.
__________
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